


It's a MIRA-cle!

by justpressX



Series: The Ghosts Among Us [1]
Category: Among Us (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Among Us (Video Game) Setting, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Flippant attitude to death and killings, Gen, Minx and Niki and Fundy are just mentioned, Mira HQ (Among Us), Talking To Dead People, because the author couldn't really be bothered
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:09:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28842900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justpressX/pseuds/justpressX
Summary: Following Tubbo's ejection, Phil found strange happenings following him. From the time-old classic of the beverage he was buying refusing to fall down, to inexplicable vent noises, to a gas can falling over for not apparent reason, he could almost say he was haunted.But no one ghost could cause that much trouble, could they?
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Series: The Ghosts Among Us [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2114937
Kudos: 40





	It's a MIRA-cle!

**Author's Note:**

> Huge shout-out to my proof reader Grammarly, you're great even though you keep insulting my conciseness /j

It started, as Phil would like to blame it on, when Tubbo was careless enough to get caught faking an obvious task and then killing in broad daylight. He had assumed the lights were off, judging by his startled reaction to Fundy's accusations. 

"He was just, standing there–! Staring at the power diversion!" Fundy waved his gloved hands around as he needlessly regaled the group with his tale. Tubbo bit his lip, sitting unusually straight. His face was pale, and his fingers twitched under the table. A few times, he opened his mouth, as if to protest, but didn't.

Phil's vote, along with Niki's, Ranboo's, and Fundy's, were already locked in. That left Minx and Scott.

"He stares, for like, fucking– thirty seconds, then he turns around, and stabs Wilbur!" 

There was a short pause as Minx silently voted. "Alright, Tubbo, you've gotta admit, there's no way you're getting out of this; Fundy wouldn't make up such a ridiculous story," 

Despite her strained relationship with Wilbur, tear tracks stained her face. Wilbur had been on many missions with her before; Phil too.

Scott, the only other who hadn't voted yet, leaned across the table curiously. His cyan hair fell over his eyes, falling over his kind gaze. He looked to Tubbo, who blinked back, wide-eyed and helmetless. 

"Tubbo?" He said, obviously trying to sound calm. "I'm gonna give you a chance to say your piece."

"Not that my vote would make much difference, but still." Scott continued, smiling wryly. 

Tubbo turned in his seat to face him. Running a hand through his hair, he took a deep breath.

"Smajor, Smajor, hear me out, I'm a good guy, please," he begged desperately. "I was just messing around with the power, you know how I am! I– I swiped my goddamn card! I swiped it!" 

He broke off, eyes darting around frantically. "Please, you have to trust me," he pleaded. 

Scott sighed with a pained look. "You swiped your card?"

"Tubbo! Come on!" At Tubbo's nod, Scott shook his head with a small smile.

Phil was confused for a second, but when he figured it out, he had to bite back a laugh, shoulders shaking. 

Niki giggled under her breath as Minx, beside her, threw her head back and burst into laughter. Ranboo had already been grinning and snickering at who-knew-what the entire meeting, and this only made him laugh harder. Fundy, ever the clueless crewmate, tilted his head curiously, but began to laugh solely because everyone's laughter was contagious. 

Through all this, Tubbo sat in his seat, an utterly bemused expression on his face.

"Tubbo– There isn't–" Scott started giggling as well, fumbling to vote and explain at the same time. "There's no– We don't need to swipe our cards here, Tubbo,"

"Wait–" Tubbo (and Fundy) gasped. With Scott's vote, the results were revealed quietly; all seven, except for Tubbo, were for him. "No! No way! I did it! Please!" 

Descending into panicked spluttering, he started backing away in the direction of the balcony. Phil scooted away from the table, letting Scott walk past him and towards Tubbo. The rest of them, stunned into silence, watched the two.

Tubbo's back bumped into the railing quietly. He held his hand out as if to ward off Scott. "No! Wait!" His face scrunched up, tears forming in his eyes. "Please!"

Scott stopped, blinking quickly. "I…" 

A second later, Phil spotted a glint of metal in his other hand. Tubbo brought the knife up, aimed straight at Scott.

In an instant, it was flying out of his hands. A cry rang out.

Scott released his grip on Tubbo's wrist, a thin line of red slicing across the edge of his palm. A pained expression was on his face. With one last moment of hesitation, he shoved Tubbo over. He tumbled over the railings, falling down, down, down… 

Tubbo joined his knife on the ground below. A gust of cold air whooshed past, and Phil shivered. 

Scott let out a heavy sigh. "Alright guys, go, go,"

He made shooing motions at them, shuffling to the end of the balcony himself. Phil watched as he started to run the weather diagnosis, slumping onto the balcony floor and gazing into the sea of clouds below as he waited. The wound on his hand had already stopped bleeding, leaving just a faint line that probably hurt a lot when he moved his hand.

Ranboo ducked into their storage room, emerging in a second with a blue watering-can. He stared at it anxiously, holding it away from him as he strode down the hallway. The others filed out of the cafeteria swiftly.

Pulling a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, he unfolded it and squinted at the handwriting. A5. 

Well, he could do that. Phil turned and headed to the vending machine. He pushed the corresponding buttons, and the machine rumbled. Shoving the paper back into his pocket, he was already mentally ticking the task off his list, eager to leave.

The beverage was pushed out slowly, teetering on the edge of the shelf and, gradually, lifting to hover in the air. What the–

He prodded the glass separating him from the contents of the machine. The drink did not budge, stubbornly floating there.

"Oi!" Phil hissed at it, then turned around so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. Yet, there was no one in the cafeteria. Even Scott had left, his footsteps echoing down the hallway and towards the north wing. Still, he could have sworn he heard a chuckle. 

Phil spun in a circle, eyes narrowing at the empty air. 

Just as he was about to dismiss it and go on, the beverage – having been suspended in the air for a solid minute – fell to the floor of the vending machine. Phil eyed it, then, hesitantly, pushed open the flap to grab the beverage.

Shaking the entire encounter off – or at least, trying to – and ignoring what might have been just his imagination, Phil snatched the beverage, promptly leaving the cafeteria. 

His feet led him to the logs automatically, where he spent a few minutes trying to decipher what was akin to ancient hieroglyphics. If only Techno hadn't been killed; he would have understood this better than Phil could. Or maybe not. The logs were notoriously difficult to read, after all.

Sighing, Phil headed down the hallway and passed Medbay. Minx was there, scanning with a bored expression on her face. When she spotted him, she waved, a holographic green net encircling her arm as she did.

Phil nodded briefly, stopping to watch her. The machine whirred as she was enveloped in a net of neon green. The net pulsed as several statistics were projected on the air. After a few seconds, both net and numbers disappeared, and the machine quietened.

Minx stepped off the scanner and walked out, calling cheerfully over her shoulder, "Don't die!"

Shaking his head, Phil laughed. "Not if I can help it," 

Just as he was about to continue down, all the way to the dropship zone, a muffled clank sounded. Phil immediately tensed, all too aware of the vent in the shadowed end of the room. Thankfully – or unfortunately – the vent locations were well-known throughout the ship; MIRA took the safety of their employees seriously. 

It mustn't have been _that_ seriously, Phil couldn't help thinking, seeing as three of them had already died, and at least one killer was currently in the headquarters.

To be fair, they had experienced this many times before. Tubbo was still a shock, though; he couldn't imagine how the sweet-faced, innocent teen was able to do… that. It must have hurt for Scott; their leader always had a sweet spot for their youngest member, having taken him under his wing the moment he began training.

A few painstakingly long seconds later, nothing had moved. No one had crawled out of the vents, as MIRA had instructed them to look out for. 

In the end, Phil chalked it up to his paranoia – no, Techno had fucking _died_ , it was justified fear, not paranoia – and left. The door creaked on his way out. 

On the way, the oxygen was sabotaged. Phil was decidedly not a fan of the suffocating panic as the entire headquarters flashed with red lights. His fingers trembled as he pushed the buttons, entering the code with a pounding heart.

When it was over, Phil sighed and pressed on. The dropship zone was empty, which made sense, considering that it was so detached from the other rooms. The faint hiss of the decontamination chamber made him prick his ears up. 

Phil tapped his fingers on the controls, waiting for the diagnostics to be complete. The turtle, as the crewmates liked to call it, filled slowly, in accordance with the progress bar on the side. 

Fundy hurried in, footsteps brisk and frantic. With clumsy carelessness, he sloshed some fuel into the tank opposite Phil, and just as Phil was about to call out to him, he was gone again. 

The machine dinged, signalling its completion, and Phil looked back at the screen. All good. 

He turned to leave, half-anticipating something to happen again.

The empty fuel can fell to the floor with a thud. Phil was by its side in an instant, utterly confused by it all. (What exactly 'it' was, he didn't quite know yet.)

"What the fuck?" He muttered. Nonetheless, he picked it up and set it on the table gingerly. 

There. There it was again. He heard, just like before, a soft chuckle, this time accompanied by a faint giggle. A muffled background noise followed them, fading in and out of his hearing.

It wasn't cold, but he shivered. 

A second later, like surfacing from water, everything sharpened into focus. A clear voice drawled, "Guys, _this_ is what I meant by 'communication'." Phil knew that voice. He could practically hear the air quotes in the last word.

"Oh!" Another disembodied voice exclaimed, this one bright and cheery. It was slightly familiar too, yet a little new – like meeting an old childhood friend after decades of being apart. "How did you do that? That's so–" 

The second voice was swiftly interrupted by another, very recognisable voice.

"Shut up! Anyway, I was saying, we should totally go–"

Yet another voice, sounding tired and frustrated and so done with the third one, groaned. "You shut up!" 

Techno, Tubbo, Tommy, and Wilbur. Was he hallucinating – or the sound equivalent of that – or were they actually there?

He looked around the area, this time not surprised to be met with nothing. Shrugging, he briskly walked through the hallway, intending to leave the four ghosts – spirits? – behind.

For once, he found himself wishing that he could use the vents; it was a long walk up to the reactors, and going decontamination took absolutely forever. 

"Wait–" The youngest voice – Tubbo – called. Phil paused, looking over his shoulder instinctively. Seeing no one, he settled for fixing his gaze on the fuel can, giving it a questioning look. 

Somehow, they all lowered their voices in a flurry of whispers. Phil could just barely make out a few words, "But– you– no– fine– what if–"

With a sigh from Wilbur, Tubbo tapped him on the shoulder. Or at least, Phil thought that was what was supposed to happen; the actual tapping was more of a cold chill sinking into him than a tap. 

"Can we– Can I go with you?" He asked.

"Sure! All of you can. Fair warning, though; it's gonna be boring," The other three seemed to let out collective sighs of relief. 

Shaking his head, Phil couldn't help grinning as he continued down the hallway. Medbay turned into view. Phil peered in, seeing no one. 

"Oh! Right, the– The, uh, 'vent' incident was, believe it or not, not our fault," Wilbur remembered. Phil felt inclined to believe him, especially when Techno backed him up. 

"Yeah, that was n– uh, the other killer, not us,"

"Alright, alright, let's go, guys," Phil turned and left, rounding a corner and ducking through the decontamination doors just before it swung shut. Consulting his list of tasks, Phil felt a rush of relief. At least he wasn't the one tackling the reactor today.

"Hey, Phil!" Scott waved at him, leaning against one of the walls with a similar list in his hands. He tucked his list into his pocket with an air of resignation, smile fading a little as he played with the edge of the paper. 

"I've got reactors again," Scott told him as they were sprayed by the sprinklers on the ceiling. The doors opened with a puff. "It always takes forever, sigh,"

Wringing the hem of his shirt dry, Phil felt his lips quirk up in a smile. "Did you just say 'sigh'?" 

"Yeah, he does that a lot," Tubbo piped up, a smile clear even in his voice at the sight of his former mentor. He seemed to have forgotten – or forgiven – Scott 'ejecting' him already. Probably a side effect of being a ghost.

"Yeah, I did," Scott stepped out of the room, heading to the left with a shrug. "I do that a lot."

Phil followed him, pausing near the door to flick one of the power diversion switches. He'd have to head to the greenhouse later. 

"See, Tubbo? That's how you fucking do it," Wilbur snarked, and Phil could almost picture him, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. A beanie would be tilted on his head – Wilbur never wore it straight – and Phil almost reached out to straighten it before catching himself. 

Glancing at Scott, who was still hunched over the reactor start screen, he began to cross to the right side of the room, walking along the short hallway in between the two sides. The faint beeps of the reactor followed him, suddenly buzzing erratically. Scott groaned, probably having messed up.

A few thuds sounded, and a young, exasperated voice shouted, "Fuck!"

Phil poked his head into the lab-like area. "You okay?" He teased lightly.

A stupidly tall teenager with black and white hair was glaring at a pile of purple crystalline shards, another similar shard in his hand. Phil recognised him as Ranboo, a newer recruit who was transferred to their crew just days before their departure. Scott had brought him in when he returned from his mission, declaring that he would be joining them. 

Dream hadn't showed up when he had been supposed to a week before, so everyone just accepted Ranboo into the crew.

"No." He responded bluntly, gathering up the pieces and trying to assemble them into a single crystal. "These just won't stay– fuck!"

The fragments collapsed yet again. Vaguely, Phil heard someone snicker. With a frown, he addressed whoever it was, chiding, "Don't laugh at him, that shit's hard to assemble–"

Ranboo blinked, looking to his left and right. Realising his mistake, Phil cut himself off, panic rising.

"I wasn't– they– uh– I was talking to–" He tried to explain, but Ranboo finished his sentence for him, a look of recognition in his eyes.

"The voices in your head? Yeah, I've got them too," 

Phil was stunned into silence. The crystals toppled onto each other again.

"What did you say?" He asked when he finally found his voice. Invisible hands pieced together the crystal carefully, holding it together. Someone else ruffled Ranboo's hair, messing up the black and white parting. 

"They saved my life," Ranboo confessed with a sad smile. "All three of them– hey! Stop messing with my hair!"


End file.
